Where the Story Ends
by The Little Monster 1024
Summary: This can't be the end of our story.


Where the Story Ends

…

You weren't even supposed to be there.

God, I can remember it like it was just yesterday, even though it's going on eight months now.

It was a Thursday. It was raining, not pouring but more like a drizzle; the perfect rain. It was soothing as I laid in bed next to you that morning. I hadn't slept at all the night; my head hurt from the light fever and I couldn't breathe out of my nose. I was on call, so I got out of bed, my joints aching. I showered and dressed. I felt your arms around my waist as I curled my hair. You were still sleepy, your hair disheveled, but you still noticed my fever.

Stay home, you told me. Even as you said it you had to have known that I'd say no.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon; after we'd watched a movie and you'd made me some soup did the body drop. You didn't come with me; you had a meeting with Black Pawn, something to do with the new Nikki book.

I was miserable. I felt awful. My fever rose and my throat ached more and more with every word that I spoke. It was only a few hours after I'd been there that I saw you walking across the bullpen.

I walked up to you. I must've looked terrible because your smile faded and you told me to go home. I refused and asked you what you were doing at the precinct.

Your meeting was on break and you wanted to bring me some soup. I didn't think I'd ever loved you more.

We got the call then, that our suspect had been spotted. You being Castle never turned down a good suspect chase. You came with us.

We easily caught up with him; you and I cornered him in an alley. I was tired, sick. I didn't notice the weapon. I was too slow, I didn't even know what had happened until you hit the ground right at my feet, two bullets in your head.

The suspect took of and I dropped to my knees next to you. God, I couldn't even tell that it was you lying there.

"No…no! Castle…" She choked out; her shaky hands brushing hair back from his bloody face. "No, Castle, come on!"

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders, pulling me off of your body. Esposito held me back as the paramedics pronounced you dead.

It took both him and Ryan when they put you in the body bag.

Eight months later and I can still smell the blood in the air. I can still hear the voice of the paramedic calling the time and it's just too much.

Everyone tells me that it'll be okay, that I'll be okay. That I'll move on. But I don't think that'll happen. You changed me, made me into the person I am today. I can't look in the mirror without seeing you everywhere. You're everywhere I look, Castle. At home, our bed. Your clothes still hanging in the closet. Your shoes gathering dust. When Alexis comes to visit its almost unbearable because I see so much of you in her. At the precinct, your chair sits empty, the espresso machine untouched. It's quiet now, always so quiet. I see you in the park when little kids are playing or when leaves blow in the wind. Carefree, just like you.

How can I be okay, how can I move on when I see you everywhere?

Your mother moved back into the loft with me. I think she thinks she's helping me, but she really isn't. Seeing the sadness in her eyes only makes mine worse. We eat together in silence, never meeting each other's eyes. That would just be too much.

I wish she would move out, but I could never tell her that.

I wish I could move out, but I could never do that to her.

It's like I'm stuck. Stuck in your life without you. I'm hounded by the press. I'm called frequently by Gina. She wants me to write an author's note for the end of the last Nikki book, tell you goodbye. I refuse, though. I've told you goodbye. I don't want the whole world to read what is ours. Only ours. I don't care if it'll increase the income for the fucking books.

I won't write in one of your books. They're yours. Ours. Not theirs. That's something no one can ever take from us. Our story.

Can't they let me have that? It's all I have left. The world won't stop trying to make a profit from your death. They've somehow gotten a hold of crime scene photos. My face is plastered across the internet because some asshole snuck a camera into your funeral. I can't visit you at the cemetery without ending up on page six.

I won't exploit your death anymore. I won't exploit our story.

After you died there was a magazine article about us. "A Tragic End to a Great Love Story" was what it was called.

That can't be true, can it, Castle? We've been through too much for it to end like this. This can't be the end of our story. I've never really given much though on the idea of an afterlife; heaven or hell, I don't know if I believe that after we die we arrive at the pearly gates. I don't know if we're reborn or we all just meet up again in some alternate universe. The logical side of me doesn't really believe me, the side that just think that after die, we're done and that's that. But that's such a scary way to live. I can't let myself think that way. I have to hold onto the idea that after these 80, 90 years of life, it isn't the end. I live on the idea, on the chance that I'll see you again, that I'll see my mom again, see Montgomery again.

This isn't the end of our story.

It can't be.

…

AN: What did you think? Review? (:


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